Chapter Five

Natasha

Pacing her cell, she tried to reason her way out of her situation. Not only had her charge imprisoned her after she’d been forced to land on an uninhabited planet, someone from her squadron wanted her dead. She wasn’t sure what was worse.

Nothing like this had ever happened before as far as she knew. Major Sebastian and some of her peers had begun to make comments about sanitizing Andromeda’s population, joking that people like Natasha who had been born a twin were a detriment. They’d gone so far as to say that Nymphs who’d been born a twin should be sterilized. What would happen if all women started having multiple births? There were too many females on Andromeda already. Multiple births of girls would strain the planet’s resources.

There were rumors of twin girls and mothers of twins being secreted away to protect them. The prejudice against twin girls had only cropped up in the last few years. Natasha hadn’t grown up with it but she’d grown aware of the whispers behind her back.

Natasha had no choice but to conclude Sebastian truly did wish to harm her. Not only that, but the Major had planned everything. The combat ship could have easily blown her ship to pieces, but the explosion would have registered on Andromeda’s space sensors.

Instead the pilot of the combat ship had a strategy. She forced Natasha to land on Doranna, a planet feared by all, a planet overrun with blood-thirsty animals. The pilot also made certain Natasha had crashed with a dangerous criminal on board. If the Dorannan animals didn’t attack and maul her, Ragnar would.

She shivered as the gravity of the situation dawned on her. The pictures of the sentries in the dossier showed a grisly crime scene. It was hard to imagine Ragnar brutalizing anyone. He’d regarded her with wry bemusement, as if she were no more than a troublesome child. Surely, he wouldn’t harm her. She shivered, wondering if he’d turned into some sort of ravening wolf when he attacked the men.

Natasha watched him as he rifled through the ship’s galley. He searched the provisions, sniffing the food, alternating between tossing the food aside or eating it. He seemed not to recognize the fruit.

“Can I eat this?” He held up an orange.

“Yes.” She nodded. They must not have the same food on Jaegar. Their nutrition was probably superior to Andromeda’s. That had to be why he was such a giant of a man. His large hands dwarfed the orange, making it look more like a lemon than an orange.

She could refuse to tell him anything, but what would that get her aside from the satisfaction of defying him? Eyeing his thickly banded arms, she decided that would be counterproductive.

He sniffed the orange. Without peeling it, he took a bite. His brows shot up. “Mm…”

“No!” she said, but it was too late.

After he swallowed, he frowned. “What?”

“You have to peel it.”

He studied the fruit. “Peel it?”

“You don’t have oranges on Jaegar? The land of milk and honey?”

He shook his head. “We only have grapes. No one eats them. They’re used for wine, only.”

“Oranges have to be peeled.”

He crossed the cabin and held out the fruit to her. “Peel it for me.”

Natasha’s shoulders stiffened. Did he think she was a serving girl? A submissive Nymph, one who waited for a command from her mate?

He arched a brow. “I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Slowly she reached for the dripping orange. He’d bitten off at least a third of it. What was left wouldn’t be easy to peel. Juice dripped on the floor of her cell and covered her fingers in a sticky mess. Ragnar watched intently. When she finished, she set the peels down on the bench. He held out his hand. She returned the peeled orange to him. His fingers brushed her palm. The sensation felt like an electrical charge. A tremor twisted down her body. Her knees buckled. If she hadn’t been able to grab a titanium bar, she might have collapsed.

He grunted. “You need to eat. Children need to eat more often than adults.”

For a moment, she could scarcely draw a breath. Her skin prickled with a sensation she’d never felt before. The sensation faded only to be replaced with a dull ache in her legs and hips and breasts.

“What would you like, little one?” He’d turned away and rummaged through the provisions. “What’s this?”

He popped the rest of the orange into his mouth and returned to her cell with a wrapped package. “It smells good. Eat it.”

She accepted the food, slumped against the bars and unwrapped it. Maybe he was right. She needed to eat something. “Are you trying to fatten me up? Don’t   Jaegarians devour their enemies?”

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him staring at her. His gaze drifted down her body. The tingling washed over her skin again.

His lips curved into a smile. “What?”

“I said don’t your people eat their enemies?”

“You seem…” His words drifted off as he drew closer to her cell. Clasping the bars, he stared down at her. “Taller.”

She looked down at her pants. Her cuffs were too short. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He strolled away, leaned against the counter, eyeing her with a sultry gaze. “Do Maidens sometimes turn into Nymphs?”

Her breath escaped her with a huff of surprise. That sort of thing happened. She’d heard about it, but only when the Maiden met a man who brought on the shift. She’d assumed it was a myth. Something absurd that involved fated mates.

“I don’t believe that happens,” she said. “Ever.”

She wasn’t lying. She didn’t believe it at all. The change in her body had to be something about Doranna. The planet’s atmosphere or gravity had caused her body to change. That was all. Nothing more.

His eyes drifted from her lips to her chest and further to her hips. “How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty-four.” She took a bite of her food and drew a sharp breath. It was delicious. Bread with a savory meat and pickled greens. When she’d started flying, pilots were served the same food as workers on Andromeda, but spending time in zero gravity took its toll on the women’s bodies.

They returned from flight assignments haggard and depleted. Natasha had helped change the flight nutrition program, making sure pilots left with plenty of mineral-rich produce and extra servings of protein. She was grateful for the enhanced meals.

For some reason, she was suddenly famished.

“Twenty-four,” he mused, returning to the galley.

“And you?”

“Thirty.” He held up a cherry. “Does this need to be peeled?”

She hid her smile. “No, but it has a pit inside.”

He popped a few in his mouth. “You manage to grow delicious fruits. I must say, I’m impressed.”

“So glad you approve.”

He searched through the provisions some more, pulling out a box of blueberries. He held one between his thumb and forefinger and frowned. “These have pits?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, but you must peel them.”

He snorted, bringing her the box. “That’s a lot of trouble. You do it for me.”

She laughed. Finishing the last bite of her food, she watched in amusement as his eyes darkened with irritation. He held out the berries and waited.

“I lied. You don’t really need to peel blueberries.”

He scowled and ate a berry, slowly, cautiously as if expecting to encounter a terrible taste or unwelcome surprise. She wanted to laugh, but suddenly, out of nowhere, a wave of emotion came over her. Loss. Dread. The feelings twisted inside her. In the morning, his people would come and he’d leave. He’d abandon her on the ship, maybe even in the cell. She sucked in a deep breath and set her hand over her heart. Her eyes stung. She rubbed them with the heel of her hand.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“When your people come tomorrow, will you send a message to Andromeda?”

He frowned. “Why would I do that? They think I’m dead.”

“To tell them I’m here.”

“They think you’re dead, too.”

“But I’m not.”

He shook his head and threw some blueberries into his mouth. “Yes. I see that, Natasha.”

“My life is over, but I don’t want to die here. Alone.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m taking you back to Jaegar.”

Backing away from him, she stumbled and caught herself. She retreated until the backs of her legs hit the bench. Her skin chilled. She felt clammy. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t take her. Ragnar might treat her well, aside from tossing her into the cell, but his fellow Jaegarians couldn’t be expected to show her any mercy. Whatever awaited her back on Andromeda, it would be a hundred times better than what awaited her on Jaegar.

“Why?” she breathed.

“Your people want to kill you.”

“I’m not going. I won’t. You can’t make me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Doranna isn’t the place to throw a temper tantrum, little one. I can make you. I will make you, and when we get to Jaegar, I’ll do something nice for you. How would that be? Would you like a pony?”

She curled her hands into fists. The casual way he spoke about simply whisking her away enraged her. “How would you like to go fuck yourself, you overgrown dim-witted beast. You can’t make me go someplace I don’t want to go.”

“Isn’t that what you were going to do to me? Take me to Pendleton.”

“You killed our sentries!”

“They needed to be killed. They beat prisoners. They came into my cell with iron spiked clubs. They wanted to have a crack at the human from an alien planet who’d won the Blood Games.”

“So, you killed them?”

“My wolf killed them.”

His tone was dispassionate. He held her in a hard, cold stare. His wolf? It wasn’t possible, was it? A dark gleam lit his eyes. The raw, animal fury that radiated from him made her wrap her arms around herself. Her forearms bumped against her chest. She looked down to see a gentle curve beneath her shirt.

“You’re not so little after all,” he said. “Are you?”

Her shirt stretched across her chest in a way she’d never noticed before. What in heaven’s name was going on? Sweat broke out across her brow. “Something’s happening to me. Maybe it’s because of this planet.”

He smirked and turned away. “This planet is different from yours. When the sun sets, the animals will leave their dens in search of prey. The nights on Doranna are cold. By dawn, it will be thirty or forty below.”

Natasha ignored his warning and did her best to set her worries aside. Her body was acting strangely, but it was temporary. As soon as she left the planet, she would regain her usual narrow frame. For the time being, the main concern was the plunging temperatures. She wondered if he was telling the truth.

“I hope what you’re saying is wrong, Ragnar. For both of our sakes. If it gets that cold, we won’t survive.” He grunted in response, crossed the cabin to a side panel and pushed the button on the wall. The doors opened. A bed lowered.

“You seem to know your way around a prisoner transport.”

He lay down on it and crossed his hands behind his head. “I do.”

“Why is that?”

“This isn’t my first time being a prisoner. I was arrested when I visited Andromeda years ago.”

She watched as he shifted to get comfortable on the bed. How could anyone mention something like getting arrested so casually? Then she remembered the man had brutally murdered the sentries.

“How many people did you kill that time?” she asked, leaning against the bars.

His lips curved. “None. I robbed the Western Treasury.”

She waited for him to say more. The Western Treasury lay a mile beneath Andromeda’s surface, a vault guarded by elite warriors, rendering it impossible to break into. He was lying.

“Sure, you did,” she said. “I believe you.”

“I didn’t keep the money. I gave it back. Which was a mistake, because that was when they arrested me.”

His tone of detached amusement grated on her. She rubbed her forehead. Maybe she was in the middle of a bad dream. None of this was real. Soon she’d wake in her private apartment with one of the cadets delivering her breakfast tray. Never had she suffered through such a harrowing or realistic bad dream, but she knew of other Maidens who had been afflicted. They called them “night terrors.”

“You didn’t want to keep the money?” She matched his casual tone, playing along with her dream-tormentor.

“I only wanted to see if I could pull it off. You know? A challenge?”

Suddenly, she felt exhausted, drained. She lowered herself heavily to the hard, metal bench and laid down. The cold steel made her shiver.

“It’s almost dark, little one,” Ragnar’s voice drew her from her drowsy state of mind.

“I’m pretending you’re just a figment of my imagination,” she said. “I’m dreaming of you and being stranded on Doranna because I ate something sour. I’m a decorated warrior. These things don’t happen to women like me.”

She kept her eyes closed and heard his soft chuckle.

“In a few hours, Natasha, when your blood turns to ice, you won’t think you’re dreaming.”

“And if I’m not dreaming, then I suppose I won’t have long to live. Which is not what I wanted.”

“Death?” he asked quietly.

“Death doesn’t trouble me, but I’d always hoped for an honorable death. Not one where I fail my mission and die alone.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. He’d probably say something dismissive, but he didn’t respond. Sometime later, the sound of a wild animal, howling, startled her. Drawing a sharp breath, she lifted onto her elbow. Gloom had gathered. The inside of the ship was almost dark. She could see her breath and felt colder than she’d ever felt before. Her jacket lay by the cockpit, no use to her now. And Ragnar dozed in the middle of the bed, his feet hanging over the edge.

He hadn’t even bothered to cover himself with blankets. Something about their Viking heritage gave Jaegarians protection against the cold, an attribute that Maidens lacked. What she wouldn’t give for one of his blankets.

“Brute,” she muttered, settling back down on the metal bench.